


Let's Spend the Night Together

by AmyPond45



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, Pre-Series, Pre-Stanford, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 04:17:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12291072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyPond45/pseuds/AmyPond45
Summary: Pre-series Sam and Dean are visited by time-travelers from the future who give them some rather disturbing news: the world is ending in the future because Sam and Dean couldn't admit their feelings for each other. Now they've got a second chance. Will they mess it up (and end the world) again?  Or can they overcome their Winchester stubbornness and get it right this time?





	Let's Spend the Night Together

“Dean? What the – “

Sam feels the familiar weight of his brother’s body, pinning him down in the bed, as his mind swims to consciousness. It’s still dark, still the middle of the night, and Dean’s got one hand on his wrist, the one under his pillow where he keeps his gun. He’s got his other hand over Sam’s mouth.

“Shhh,” Dean murmurs, shifting a little so Sam can feel the full weight of his body. “Easy, tiger. I’m just gonna turn on the light, okay?”

Sam nods. Something’s wrong. In the split second it takes Dean to take his hand away from Sam’s mouth and reach for the bedside lamp, Sam bucks up, almost manages to unseat his captor.

“Whoa! Hold on there, cowboy!” Dean’s got him again, seems to be able to foretell his every move.

Of course he does. Dean taught Sam everything he knows, every wrestling move, every method of escape when he’s being pinned down in his bed by someone heavier and more experienced…

‘What the – “

The room is suddenly flooded with light and the first thing Sam sees is impossible. Dean’s on the _other_ bed, held in place by a guy twice his size. He’s staring at Sam with wide, terrified eyes, and Sam’s suddenly and inappropriately hornier than hell.

Sam’s loved his brother forever, wanted him since he first understood what that meant, but this summer, just after his eighteenth birthday, has been the worst. He can’t stop the inappropriate hard-ons to save his life. It’s like he’s programmed to give in to the inevitable.

But he won’t, damn it. He’s worked too hard to control it so far. He won’t let Dean know how dirty he is inside, how wrong he’s made. He won’t do that to his glorious, gorgeous, good-hearted brother.

Except now his hormones have gotten them in trouble. Serious trouble.

“We’re not shape-shifters, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Dean’s voice in his ear reminds him that the trouble is in the form of this powerful man who seems to know him and has him pinned down good. “We’re you. From the future. You know it’s true, Sam, so stop trying to fight me.”

Sam makes another desperate move to wrench himself off the bed, but the stranger has him down. His grasp tightens on Sam’s wrist so he can’t get a grip on the gun, and his legs are trapped by the other man’s legs in the most intimate way possible…

The guy has a hard-on. Fuck.

“Not gonna rape you, neither,” the voice breathes. “We’re just here to help. Now you calm down, stop fighting, and we’ll let you go. Ya got me?”

Sam nods, keeping his eyes on his brother in the other bed, silently communicating. They aren’t exactly out-numbered, but these two men are stronger and older and seem to know them, so for the moment Sam decides it’s best to play along, wait for an escape opportunity.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” Sam’s captor says as he loosens his hold, lets Sam sit up, lets him scramble backwards so he can get enough distance to throw a punch.

The stranger has Sam’s gun, pointed right at him. And the other one is still holding on to Dean, has Dean’s knife pressed to his throat. He shakes his head at Sam, like he knows what he’s thinking, knows Sam was about to make a dirty move.

“We’re you.” The stranger has Dean’s face, but he’s older, tougher-looking, skin lined with age and obvious hard-living. “We’re from 2017, where there’s been a rift in time, and my brother here has traced it back to this moment in 2001, just before you left for Stanford.”

“What?” Sam can’t help himself. Nobody knows, not even Dean. He hasn’t told him. “How do you know about that?”

The Dean-stranger cocks an eyebrow, lips quirking into a smirk Sam knows too well, sees too often. “I know all, Sammy. I’m from the future, remember?”

“You – you’re _leaving?_ ” Dean cries out from the other bed, shock and disbelief overwhelming his fear. “You’re _leaving_ us, Sam?”

“I was gonna tell you,” Sam stammers. “I was gonna tell you first, Dean, I swear.”

“Bullshit,” stranger-Dean challenges. “You were gonna keep it to yourself until Dad got back, then you were going to blurt it out all at once. Shock and awe. That’s your strategy, isn’t it, Sam? And then when Dad screams at you to get out, to never come back, you don’t have to deal with how it makes your brother feel, right? You never have to deal with how your leaving like that affects _me_. Him.” He nods at Dean, frowning a little, obviously a little confused.

Sam feels his eyes widen and film over with tears. He’s never thought it through like that. It never occurred to him how it might make Dean feel, if Dad throws Sam out right there on the spot.

But of course that’s what Dad will do. He’ll be furious because Sam’s done this thing behind his back, gotten himself into a good college with a full ride and there’s no way Dad can say no because it’s all paid for. He never has to ask Dad for a goddamn dime.

“Come with me, Dean,” he says, the solution so obvious he doesn’t know why he hasn’t thought of it before. “We can both go. Together.”

“And leave Dad? Are you crazy?”

It’s as if the strangers aren’t even here. Suddenly it’s just Sam and Dean.

“Dad’ll be fine on his own,” Sam says, using his most pleading look to get Dean to agree. “He’s off on his own most of the time anyway. He doesn’t need us anymore.”

“He _does_ need us, Sam, you know he does,” Dean insists, and Sam can tell he’s ignoring the stranger who’s holding him, just as Sam is. “He’s getting older. His reflexes aren’t what they used to be. If we’re not there to have his back – “

“We’re never there anymore anyway.” Sam shakes his head. “He hasn’t asked for our help in months. He’ll be glad to be free of us. We’ve been a burden to him, held him back, long enough.”

“That’s not true! He doesn’t feel that way about us!”

“You know he does. He said as much last month…”

“He was drunk!” Dean’s tone is desperate, like he knows Sam’s right but he just can’t admit it. “You can’t trust anything he says when he’s been drinking. He doesn’t mean any of it!”

“Can you believe this crap?” Stranger-Dean says, but he’s not speaking to Sam or Dean. He’s talking to his partner, the other stranger. The one who’s built like a mountain and has long hair and familiar features. The one who’s supposed to be future!Sam.

Stranger-Sam shakes his head. “Our lives in instant replay,” he says softly. “They can’t even talk about it. It’s the elephant in the room, but they can’t see it.”

“Are you freaks gonna let us go?” Dean snaps, angry and defiant now that Sam’s secret’s out. “‘Cause if you’re planning to kill us, seems to me you missed your chance.”

“Not gonna kill you,” stranger-Sam rolls his eyes. “You’re us, remember?”

“So if we’re you, what the hell are you doing here?” Dean glances at Sam as the strangers let them both go, back off their beds slowly and carefully.

 _They don’t trust us,_ Sam thinks as he reads Dean’s glance. Dean’s looking for an opportunity to bolt, and Sam’s with him. Just waiting for Dean’s signal.

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” stranger-Dean glares at them like he _knows_ what they’re thinking. “You two are crazy for each other, but you both think you’re the only one. You get me?”

Dean’s lips part. His eyes grow round as saucers as he stares at stranger-Dean, then glances at Sam, who snaps his mouth shut and shakes his head.

“How do you – I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam stammers. His cheeks are burning and his vision is blurred. “You can’t be serious. We’re brothers!”

Dean nods. “Yeah, that’s just sick,” he agrees, a little too quickly.

“It’s the truth,” future!Sam says. “You both know it is. You’re just too stubborn to admit it to yourselves, much less to each other.”

“And the thing is, you don’t have a choice,” future!Dean says. “If you don’t ‘fess up and get it together tonight, all hell breaks loose a few years down the line.”

“Which sets off a chain of events that causes the world to end,” future!Sam adds grimly. “And we can’t let that happen.”

Sam stares from one to the other of the men and realizes he’s already accepting what they’re saying. He’s already stopped thinking of them as strangers and sees them as their future selves.

It’s weird.

“So stop being such prudes and get with the program, huh, fellas?” future!Dean says with a little smirk as he backs toward the door, in perfect sync with his brother.

“Or we’ll be back,” future!Sam threatens.

“We’ve got the door rigged to lock behind us,” future!Dean nods. “You’ll find your weapons in the car.”

“Don’t forget what we said,” future!Sam says, as if he needs to repeat it. As if Sam and Dean didn’t hear him loud and clear. “The future depends on it, so get it right. We’re counting on you.”

In the next moment, they’re out the door, pulling it shut behind them, and Sam and Dean leap from their beds after them. They barrel shoulder-to-shoulder into the door, and Dean yanks the locked knob as if it would magically open, as if those guys were lying.

They weren’t lying. By the time Sam picks the lock, gets the door open and runs out into the parking lot, their future selves are long gone.

Sam and Dean retrieve their weapons from the front seat of the locked car and return to their room to dress quickly, then make a thorough search of the area. Of course they find nothing. Sam imagines those guys disappearing into thin air, and he considers suggesting to Dean that they just shared some kind of weird hallucination.

The scared deer-in-the-headlights look Dean gives him when they’re back in the room with the door closed behind them makes Sam nix that plan. Dean’s obviously too freaked out by what just happened. Sam starts to undress to go back to bed, then thinks better of that, too.

Dean’s not the only one who’s feeling a little freaked out.

“So we just got visited by two shape shifters,” Sam suggests hesitantly. “Or some kind of monster that reads minds and project an image of the way we’ll look in the future.”

“Why?”

Sam sucks in a breath, mind racing to come up with something, anything, that will convince Dean, distract him from what their future selves were saying.

“I mean, why didn’t they just kill us?” Dean clarifies. ‘Isn’t that what monsters do? If they could make themselves look like us, read our minds so well, why didn’t they just replace us?”

“Because our lives suck?” Sam suggests. “Maybe they’d rather take over somebody whose lives are a little more normal.”

“Really?” Dean paces in front of Sam, anger replacing his earlier terror, which is good. “Do our lives really suck so bad, Sam? Is that why you’re leaving?”

“Dean.” Sam takes another breath. “I’m not leaving _you,_ okay? Just… _this_.” He waves his arm at the dingy room, the weapons lying on Dean’s bed.

“What?” Dean glares. “The crap motels? The bad diner food? Always moving around from place to place? Sam, that’s just the background noise. What we _do_ is the important thing. We help people. We put down evil. That’s what matters.”

“We’re constantly putting ourselves in danger,” Sam protests. “Risking our lives, laying down salt-lines and keeping watch at night to guard against things that might come after us while we sleep. It’s like living in a war zone.”

“We know what’s out there,” Dean says. “We have to be prepared for anything. It’s just part of the job.”

“It’s been like this all my life, Dean,” Sam complains. “Living on the edge, learning to fight and protect ourselves and use weapons that are too large for our hands.” He huffs out a breath, looks down at Dean’s feet. “I just want us to be safe,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to have to worry every time you and Dad are out there, hunting something. I don’t want to be in constant fear of losing you.”

Dean shifts his feet, puts one hand on his hip and rubs the other over his chin, scratches the stubble there.

“So you thought you could just get out,” he says. “Start a new life. Find something better.”

“Not better,” Sam shakes his head. “Safer. I thought I could earn a bachelor’s degree, maybe a law degree after, gain some skills that could be useful, you know? Maybe help other hunters from inside the system.”

“Huh,” Dean scratches his chin again. “So you figured you could be Fox Mulder.”

Sam rolls his eyes, then gives a slight nod. “Something like that,” he agrees.

“So does that make me the sister who gets abducted?” Dean frowns, and Sam chuckles as the tension between them eases.

“You can be Scully, if you want,” Sam offers, and Dean cuffs him.

“I should call Dad,” Dean muses. “Let him know about our shape shifters.”

“Or not,” Sam shrugs and Dean looks up at him sharply, then nods.

“You’re right,” he agrees with a wry grin. “Might be better to keep this one to ourselves.”

And just like that, Dean manages to bring up the elephant in the room, the one they were both trying to pretend they couldn’t see.

“Dean,” Sam shifts his feet, awkward and uncomfortable again. “What those guys said…”

“You mean about us getting together?” Dean’s eyes flash and his jaw clenches.

“About the world ending, yeah,” Sam nods, and Dean looks away, visibly flinching. “I mean, do you think that stuff could be true? Could anybody really know the future like that?”

Dean shakes his head. “Ain’t nothin’ set in stone, Sammy. You and me, we make life and death choices every day. Most of the time we’re just reacting to the situation that’s right in front of us, you hear me? When a werewolf is coming at me, or you, I don’t stop to think about whether it’s gonna affect the timeline if I kill it. I just kill it.”

“Yeah,” Sam breathes, looking away, over Dean’s shoulder. “But what about the smaller stuff? What about our day-by-day decisions that don’t seem to have life-or-death consequences?”

“Like whether I wear my blue shirt or my green one?” Dean shakes his head again. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Or whether we eat at this diner or that one,” Sam muses. “Or whether I go to college or not.”

Dean takes a deep breath, and Sam waits, feeling the air crackling with tension again.

“Okay, you know what? I can’t sleep. What do you say we go to that diner over on the main drag, catch ourselves some early breakfast.”

Sam’s so relieved he feels like crying.

**//**

Over breakfast they discuss various scenarios.

“You can hunt with us on school breaks,” Dean suggests. “We’ll come get you. You get time off for Christmas, right?”

Sam nods. “And a week in February, another one in April, I think. And school gets out early for the summer. Earlier than public school.”

“Plus weekends?” Dean’s eyes widen. “So you’re saying you’re in school less than 25 weeks out of the year?”

Sam considers, then shrugs. “Well, I should study on the weekends,” he says thoughtfully. “Not like I can take off on a hunt.”

“But in a pinch, you could,” Dean says. “If we really needed you, and the case was close by.”

Sam looks up, meets Dean’s eyes, searches for the real meaning behind his words.

“You know I would,” Sam confirms softly. “If you really needed me, I’d drop everything.”

Dean nods, digs into his ketchup-smothered hash browns and stuffs a forkful of them into his mouth. The ketchup drips down over his lower lip and Sam flushes and looks away. He has a feeling Dean’s smirking at him, but he doesn’t look up.

“Seems to me, that place is raking it in,” Dean says around his mouthful. “All that money and the students only go half the year.”

“I don’t have to pay,” Sam reminds him. “They gave me a free ride. Room and board, tuition, even a little allowance for books. Everything.”

“Well, you deserve it, Sam,” Dean says with conviction. “I just wish you’d told me earlier, so I didn’t have to hear it from those guys, that’s all.”

“I was afraid you’d be mad,” Sam says, keeping his eyes on his food.

“Nah, I’m proud of you, Sammy, you know I am,” Dean says, but there’s a little catch in his voice and it makes Sam’s eyes fill with tears. He can’t stop thinking about what their future selves said. They’d been pretty specific about it being tonight when things had to change between Sam and Dean. Things have to be different after tonight.

When Sam glances up at Dean from under his bangs, he can’t tell if Dean’s been thinking about it or not. Dean’s still digging into his breakfast, ketchup-stained lips all swollen and slick. He looks up when he feels Sam staring and winks.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Sam ducks his head, stirs his oatmeal. His dick’s hard again, so he shifts on the bench a little to relieve the tightness in his jeans. When he glances up again, Dean’s smirking at him.

“You’re thinking about what those guys said,” Dean says. “About you being hot for me.”

“Jesus, Dean, keep your voice down!” Sam hisses, leaning forward over the table and glancing nervously around them. Luckily, none of the other diners seem to be listening. It’s mostly an after-hours crowd, mixed with some truckers and warehouse workers starting their graveyard shifts. Nobody seems to pay them any attention.

“Not like it’s news, Sammy, your having a crush on me,” Dean goes on, grinning stupidly. “You’ve been crazy for me since you were in diapers. Who wouldn’t be? I’m hot.”

Sam flushes, shakes his head. “You’re such an ass,” he mutters.

“Well it’s true, ain’t it? Not like those guys can tell me anything about my little brother I don’t already know,” Dean boasts. “Except the college thing. That sorta threw me for a loop, gotta admit. But the crush thing isn’t a surprise. It’s not even new.”

“They said you felt the same way,” Sam reminds Dean, who rewards him with a scowl.

“They got no idea what they’re talking about,” Dean mutters, keeping his eyes on his plate,

“They said it all has to change tonight,” Sam barrels on. “Or the world ends.”

“And you believe that crap?” Dean snaps, eyes flashing.

“Do _you_?”

For a moment, Dean looks flustered, spooked. Like maybe future-guys really got to him. Then he shrugs, cocky and confident again.

“Things are already different,” Dean says. “Your secret’s out. We’ve got a strategy now.”

Sam has to admit Dean's got a point. Letting Dean in on his plans has turned out better than Sam had expected. Dean might not agree to coming with him, but they’ve managed to find a compromise. They _do_ have a strategy. Dean can come with him to Palo Alto, just long enough for Sam to settle in. Hell, maybe Sam can convince him to stay if Dad doesn’t need him. Dad would know just where to find him, wouldn’t he? Maybe Dean could convince him there were cases in the area. Maybe Sam could even find them a case in Northern California, just to show Dad that he could balance work and school just fine, thank you very much.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Sam nods, tamping down his raging hard-on for the fifty-billionth time. Not like _that’s_ anything new. He’s so used to repressing and denying his lust for his brother it’s like a second skin.

When they get back to the motel it’s still only three o’clock in the morning, too early to pack up and get on the road. They both need more rest after yesterday’s hunt, but Sam’s too keyed up to sleep. Dean doesn't seem to have that problem, however. He pulls his shirt and jeans off, collapses into his bed without even looking up. His belly’s full and now he’ll sleep for hours, snuggling into his pillow with his ass in the air like an open invitation.

But of course it’s not an invitation, really. Dean knows how Sam feels about him. He’s known for _years,_ but he doesn’t take it seriously. Sam would feel humiliated if he wasn’t so frustrated.

“Gonna take a walk,” he mutters as he grabs his jacket, heads out the door.

“Bring me some pie,” Dean mumbles into his pillow, but Sam ignores him.

Outside, the Arizona evening is cool in that sharp, clean way that only desert air can be at night, after the day's summer heat has dissipated. Sam shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and slouches down the walkway in front of the motel, headed for the main road. He figures he’ll walk for a half hour or so, long enough for Dean to fall sound asleep so Sam doesn’t have to deal with him when he crawls into bed to jerk off.

He’s so deep in his thoughts, wallowing in self-pity and disgust, that he doesn’t see the dark form lurking in the shadows by the ice machine until it’s too late.

Sam barely has time to get his hands out of his pockets before he’s being shoved back against the wall, held there by a powerful, muscled body, strong arms pinning his shoulders, roughened hands grasping the lapels of his jacket. In the light from the vending machine Sam recognizes future!Dean looking up at him, so close Sam can count every freckle, every eyelash. The man thrusts his thigh up between Sam’s legs, using his other leg to leverage his weight so that Sam’s caught, pressed tight between the wall and future!Dean’s too-familiar body.

Sam’s as hard as he’s ever been, and he’s pretty sure future!Dean can feel it.

“Thought I told you what you needed to do,” the man snarls up at Sam, shaking him a little for emphasis. His breath smells like whisky and cigarettes.

“Dean,” Sam breathes, closing his eyes and swallowing just to control the raging lust coursing through his veins.

“It’s a simple thing, Sammy. Why couldn’t you do it?”

When Sam opens his eyes, there are tears in future!Dean’s luminous green orbs and his hands are trembling. Sam realizes he’s not wearing the same clothes as before. Future!Dean's jacket is dirty and torn, splattered with dark patches that Sam guesses are blood. He seems older than before, somehow. More desperate, brittle and reckless, consumed by grief. Dangerous.

“We _did_ ,” Sam protests, trying to control his stuttering. “We talked about it and Dean’s coming with me to college…”

“Not _that,_ you moron,” Dean growls, his voice shaking with emotion. He blinks away the tears but they fall anyway, streaking his dirty cheeks. “You have to make him admit what he wants, Sam. You have to make him give in to you. You can do it. You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger. Damn it, Sam, you have to make him see!”

“Are you – are you from a later time?” Sam asks hesitantly. He knows this desperate, exhausted man isn’t going to hurt him. “You seem different.”

Future!Dean takes a deep, shaky breath, studies Sam’s face like a drowning man watching his rescue boat as it drifts slowly away from him. “We lost,” future!Dean whispers. “It’s all over. Sammy’s…”

The sound of a gun cocking makes them both freeze. Sam lifts his eyes to see his brother standing just a few feet away, barefoot and wearing nothing but the boxers and tee-shirt he usually sleeps in. He’s got his gun trained at the back of future!Dean’s head, his face clenched in a look of protective fury that Sam would never wish on his worst enemies.

“Step away from my brother,” Dean growls, low and menacing.

Future!Dean tears his eyes from Sam’s face, cocks his head toward Dean but doesn’t look at him. His lips turn up in a shadow of the youthful smirk Sam knows so well, and Sam notices the raised skin of an old scar, running from future!Dean’s hairline down to the curve of his cheek.

“You shouldn’t tempt a desperate man, Dean,” future!Dean snarls, his voice laced with so much despair Sam can barely stand to hear it. “You never know when fate might come along and bite you in the ass.”

“I’m not gonna say it again,” Dean says fiercely. “Let my brother go, you son-of-a-bitch.”

Future!Dean raises his eyes to Sam’s. “He’d end the world for you, Sam. Never doubt it. Loves you too much, in every way. Don’t let him tell you different.”

Sam feels himself tremble as future!Dean releases him, holding his gaze for another long moment as he steps back and starts to turn away, toward Dean.

It happens so fast Sam isn’t sure what he sees. In the first moment after future!Dean tears his eyes away from Sam’s face he turns completely away, standing with his hands hanging at his sides as if in surrender, staring at Dean with a look Sam doesn’t recognize.

The next moment he mutters something under his breath, something that sounds almost like, “This is the only way.” Then he lunges at Dean, who reacts defensively, of course. The sound of the gunshot is deafening in the quiet night, shattering the silence and echoing off the walls of the buildings for blocks in every direction.

Future!Dean collapses at Dean’s feet, and Sam knows without question that the man is dead. Dean’s a perfect shot at fifty yards, and this was point blank. Nevertheless, Sam squats down next to the body and presses his first two fingers to the pulse point below future!Dean’s ear. His skin is still warm, his face relaxed in death so that he seems younger and more familiar than ever. Sam snatches his hand back and stands quickly, gazing helplessly down at the body for what feels like forever before raising his eyes to Dean, who looks as upset as Sam feels.

“Why did he do that?” Dean demands, and Sam shakes his head. Dean’s trembling, exhibiting the early signs of shock. He’s never shot a man in cold blood before. Monsters are one thing, and maybe Dean believed this guy was some kind of monster when he showed up before, but this time they both knew he was human. Time-traveler or not, this was a living man.

“I just shot myself,” Dean says, and Sam knows he’s grasping at humor, trying desperately to crack a joke, but it’s too hard. He puts his gun away, takes a deep breath, and asks, “Why did he come back?”

“He was coming from a later time, I think,” Sam says. “He said they lost the war. I think his brother was killed.”

Doors slam upstairs and they become aware of voices on the landing above them.

“Come on.” Dean’s training kicks in and he’s suddenly back in familiar territory, handling yet another weird situation with all the confidence of an experienced hunter. “Let’s get him up. We can carry him between us. If anybody asks, he’s our dad, and he’s been drinking.”

They angle themselves under the dead weight of future!Dean’s body, pulling one arm each across their shoulders so they can haul him up. They drag him quickly toward the car, and no one even questions them. The Windy Pines is one of those seedy motels where terrible things happen. Drug deals go bad, domestic violence breaks out, and desperate people rent rooms by the week. One gunshot, while raising alarms and probably making the police come eventually, isn’t the worst thing these people have heard.

Dean opens the back door of the Impala, and together they maneuver future!Dean’s body onto the backseat. Sam holds him there, trying not to look down at the man’s familiar face, while Dean runs around to the other side so he can pull the body inside. Once it’s all the way in, Dean dashes back inside the room for his jeans and shoes while Sam waits in the passenger seat, trying not to panic. The smell of blood, cigarettes and whiskey coming off the body makes his stomach roil, but by the time Dean comes back he’s had time to think.

“We’ll drive out of town, find a place to ditch the body,” Dean mutters as he guns the engine to life.

“I think I might have a better idea,” Sam says, trying not to think about what he’s doing as he reaches for Dean, hauls him in and presses their lips together.

For whatever reason, probably shock, Dean doesn’t yank himself away. But he doesn’t exactly give in, either. He sits rigidly, letting Sam hold him by his jacket lapels, just as future!Dean had held Sam earlier. The kiss is dry and chaste, but Sam puts real intent into it, makes it clear he’s not just giving Dean a simple peck on the lips. He lingers, letting his lips soften around Dean’s just enough to make his blood race, his dick filling dangerously again. When he finally releases Dean, his brother seems shattered, broken in ways Sam can’t even imagine. He lifts his luminous eyes to Sam and his lips part. His breath has quickened, his pupils are huge dark pools, and he trembles as he leans into Sam unconsciously.

“Sammy,” Dean breathes, then tears his gaze away to reach for the ignition, turning the key to let the engine die. When he turns back to Sam, he licks his lips. “We can’t.”

Sam doesn’t hesitate. He slips his hands around Dean’s head and captures Dean’s mouth with his own, kissing him deeply this time. He feels Dean’s lips tremble and part beneath his, letting him in, and Sam pushes his tongue inside, sliding it along Dean’s tongue as a moan bubbles up from his chest. It’s been too long. He’s waited for years, trained himself to resist, convinced himself this would never happen. He’s been good. He was planning to leave tomorrow with his terrible secret so Dean never needed to know how truly fucked up his little brother was.

Yeah, well, change of plans.

Sam kisses until Dean begins to kiss him back just as thoroughly, until there’s no doubt Dean wants this just as badly as Sam does. Which is something Sam never considered in his wildest fantasies. It was always one-sided, always just Sam who was sick and twisted and filled with darkness. If Dean ever reciprocated it was because he was giving in, because Sam pushed and demanded until Dean wore down and did what Sam wanted.

They’re both panting and hard when Sam pulls back finally, shivering and desperate because he has to hear Dean say it. Dean blinks, struggling to keep his eyes off Sam’s lips, leaning in for more unsteadily, like he’s drunk, like he can’t help himself.

“Dean,” Sam gasps, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Do you mean it? Do you really want it, too?”

“God help me, I do,” Dean mumbles breathlessly, eyes widening as he hears himself, almost as if he’d never considered it consciously before. It’s as if saying the words brings something new into being. Some discovery or revelation has suddenly occurred. Some kind of epiphany.

They both jump as they sense movement behind them, but when they glance simultaneously into the back seat, nothing’s there. Nada. No dead body, no evidence of Dean’s future demise. Something dark on the seat, maybe…

“I swear, if that freak got blood on my baby…”

“Dean, that freak was _you,_ ” Sam reminds him. He’s still holding Dean’s face, still leaning close. He can still smell the cigarettes and whiskey, but it’s fading.

“Well, he’s gone now, and good riddance,” Dean mumbles. “Dude gave me the creeps.”

“Yeah,” Sam agrees, taking a deep breath full of Dean’s warm, comfortable smell. Alive, and in his arms, right where he should be.

They barely make it into the motel room. Their desperation for each other has been pent up for too long, and clothing is suddenly the worst enemy they’ve ever faced. Buttons pop, thin, over-washed t-shirts rip easily, shoes and boots get kicked all over the room, one of them hitting the bedside lamp with a satisfying smash of glass and cheap plastic.

“Shit, Sammy.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, your dick! Jesus!”

“Yeah.”

“Just let me — Oh fuck, Sammy. Fuck fuck fuck!”

“It’s okay, Dean. Me, too.”

They tumble onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, all blessedly bare as the day they were born. Dean’s got one hand buried in Sam’s hair, the other wrapped around Sam’s dick, his mouth working at Sam’s throat like a drowning man gasping for air.

Sam’s got both hands on Dean’s ass, kneading the firm globes and pulling them apart so he can slip his fingers down between them. When the tip of his middle finger touches Dean’s hole, Dean jumps, tearing his mouth away from Sam’s so he can curse.

“Shit, Sammy! Fuck!”

“Yeah.”

“You keep touching me there, I’m gonna blow…”

“Yeah.”

“Ah, Jesus, Sam. Fuck!”

“It’s okay, Dean. I gotcha.”

Sam feels Dean’s body go rigid and still a moment before he feels warm, wet fluid spurt and spill between them, all over their bellies. He opens his eyes so he can watch Dean’s face, so he can see Dean’s eyes, glittering under half-closed lids, his long lashes spidering lace-like over his pale skin. His cheeks are flushed, making his freckles stand out, and his lips are swollen, so red they look rouged.

He’s so beautiful like this it takes Sam’s breath away, makes him gasp as a wave of lust slams through him and he almost comes, has to clench his jaw to hold back so he can keep his eyes on Dean’s face.

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean breathes as he comes down, working Sam’s dick as if he knows exactly how Sam likes it, as if he’s always known. “Come on, little brother.”

Dean’s use of the endearment in this context sends Sam right over the edge and he gives into it, gives it up for Dean. He’s blacking out and seeing stars and coming so hard all over Dean’s hand and both their bellies it seems like they must be swimming in it.

As he returns to consciousness, boneless and stupid with pleasure, Sam’s eyes slide open to see Dean watching him, his expression so full of wonder and amazement it’s almost goofy. Sam’s too sleepy to blush, too tired to grin bashfully, but Dean sees it anyway. Dean traces the dimple in Sam’s cheek and leans in for a few more soft, lazy kisses.

“Sammy,” he breathes against Sam’s lips, and Sam nods.

“Yeah.”

**//**

They don’t talk about it much, afterwards. The shock of future!Dean’s death stays with them for days, long after the confrontation with their father, long after Dean’s packed the car and driven Sam to Palo Alto to get him settled in. John Winchester’s furious at first, but with Dean there to explain the benefits of Sam getting this education, getting John to see how much it can help them in the long run, John backs down, just as Dean had said he would. Sam’s amazed and more than a little chagrined that he hadn’t let Dean in on his plans earlier, but that’s water under the bridge now. Dean’s on board all the way, no matter what Sam does.

There’s been a shift in the dynamic of their relationship. Sam has always been the little brother, looking up to and wanting to be just like Dean. But now he can feel his own power, too. He’s the most important person in Dean’s life, and it shames him a little that he didn’t see that before, that he didn’t _value_ it enough.

Sam’s determined to make it up to Dean, though. He’ll spend the rest of his life showing Dean how grateful he is. He’s not worthy of Dean’s devotion, but he’ll find a way to become worthy. He’ll make Dean proud of him, of _them_. He’ll make sure Dean never regrets his choice.

“So, you think we fixed it?” Dean asks one night when they’re lying in bed together, drawing lazy circles on each other’s skin in the dim light through the curtains.

“Yeah, I think so,” Sam answers, knowing exactly what Dean means without having to ask.

“Huh,” Dean nods. “So someday we’ll be time-lords, flying around through time, fixing things that happened in the past.”

Sam shakes his head thoughtfully. “I don’t thinks so,” he says. “I get the feeling that was a one-time thing for future us, a last ditch effort when things had already gotten pretty bad.”

“Yeah, I think so too,” Dean agrees, looking grim for a moment, and Sam knows he’s thinking about future!Dean, about how bad things would need to be for that guy to do what he did. “But apparently we stopped the world from ending, so forgive me if I take that as a win.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Sam smiles, but they both know better.

Sam still feels wrong inside, like there’s something in him that’s just biding its time, waiting for the right moment to burst forth and fuck everything up. Sam knows better than to expect their lives to be better now, no matter how many future disasters they’ve averted. Trouble always finds them. And when it does, all hell breaks loose.

Sam knows all he can really hope for is that they’ve bought a little time. They’ve made their lives a little more bearable for a while, now that they have each other in every possible way. Eventually, the other shoe will drop. But for now, things are almost good.

For now.


End file.
